


Lifeline

by Treon



Category: White Collar
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8816038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treon/pseuds/Treon
Summary: Pre-series.  It's a dark and stormy night, and Peter gets a phone call from Neal





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wwritten for H/C Advent challenge at whitecollarhc

Peter's phone rang.  
  
In the Burkes' bedroom, both El and Peter continued sleeping.  
  
A storm passing through earlier that day had dumped over two feet of snow on New York.  Peter had left work early, hoping to beat traffic, but the storm hit earlier than expected.  He'd been stuck in snarled traffic for hours.  El had a difficult time getting home as well.  She'd had to cancel an event, and had gotten home completely wiped.  
  
They'd both collapsed in bed, grateful to be out of the cold wetness outside.  
  
Peter's phone fell silent, but a few moment later rang again.  
  
El woke up first.  She leaned towards Peter.  "Peter? Honey?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Your phone."  
  
"Hm?" He stuck out his hand towards the general direction of the nightstand, groping in the dark for the ringing machine.  It took him a few minutes, but his hand finally closed on it.  He squinted at the screen, but the number was marked 'private'.  "Yeah?"  
  
"Peter!" A familiar voice filled his ear. "Isn't this a great night?  All snowy."  
  
"It's the middle of the night, Neal," Peter mumbled, his mind ready to fall back asleep.  He didn't have the energy for Neal's babbling tonight.  
  
"I know, I know. But it's so quiet and peaceful."  
  
"Yes, it was, until you called.  Good night, Neal."  
  
"Wait!"  
  
Something in Neal's tone stopped Peter from hanging up.  "What?"  
  
"Okay, so I was climbing this building-"  
  
"To rob it?" Peter inserted snarkily.  
  
Neal ignored him.  "-and there was this icy patch, and I slipped."  
  
"You're hurt?" Suddenly Peter was wide awake.  
  
El stirred by his side.  She sat up and turned on the light, concern written on her face.  
  
"Nothing that a few weeks in traction won't fix," Neal answered almost cheerfully.  
  
"Neal, you're hurt." It wasn't a question this time.  "Tell me where you are and I'll send an ambulance for you."  
  
Neal laughed, but it was cut short by a spasm of coughing.  "Oh God, I think I cracked a couple of ribs."  
  
"Neal." Peter racked his brain for what to say. "You can't just-"  
  
"I'm not going to get arrested tonight, Agent Burke."  
  
"You prefer freezing to death?"  
  
"Aren't we dramatic."  
  
Peter covered the phone with his hand and mouthed at El, "Call Diana, have her trace this call." He pointed to the phone.  
  
El nodded, grabbed her phone and headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.  
  
"Peter?" Neal probed.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here.  So why did you call me?"  
  
"It's so quiet, Peter.  And dark, and cold.  I don't want to fall asleep."  
  
Great.  "So you call an FBI agent?"  
  
"It seemed like a good idea at the time."  
  
"Okay, okay."  Peter thought what else he could say.  "So what possessed you to go out in this storm?"  
  
"It's the perfect time, Peter.  There's nobody else around."  
  
Peter could not refrain from rolling his eyes.  "For good reason!"  If he could, he would have reached through the phone and shaken the young man to his senses.  
  
El came out of the bathroom.  "She's on it," she whispered.  
  
Peter nodded his thanks.  "Can you move?"  
  
"Barely."  
  
"Can you feel your toes."  
  
"More or less."  
  
"So what's your game plan?  Keep me up all night and then what?"  
  
"You worry too much, Peter."  
  
"I worry that I won't get any sleep tonight," Peter grumbled.  
  
Neal ignored that.  "But enough about me.  What are you doing for Christmas?"  
  
"Me?"  
  
Neal laughed again. "Is that too personal?"  
  
Peter sighed. "We're going upstate, to my parents."  
  
"Sounds nice."  
  
"It is. They've got a big farmhouse."  
  
"With a hearth?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"I'd love to sit by one right now."  
  
"Neal..." Peter wasn't sure what to say. This whole scenario was ridiculous. "You need medical attention. I-"  
  
"Great detecting work, Agent Burke."  
  
"Tell me where you are, and I'll come get you.  I promise you won't spend Christmas in jail."  
  
The silence at the other end of the line lengthened.  "Neal?" Peter finally asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'm here."  
  
"Come on."  
  
"I'd rather take my chances."  
  
And the phone went dead.  
  
"Damn!"  
  
El came to sit by Peter on his side of the bed.  "What's going on?"  
  
"It's Neal Caffrey," Peter explained, quiet unnecessarily.  "He got himself into trouble and decided to call me. What did Diana say?"  
  
"That she'll try to get the ball rolling with the tech guys, assuming there's anybody there.  Oh, and that you need to keep him talking."  
  
Peter sighed.  "Kind of difficult right now."   
  
He looked down at the phone in his hands, willing it to ring again.  Which it obligingly did.  
  
"Neal!"  
  
"I thought you were worrying about your beauty sleep."  
  
Peter didn't bother answering that.  "How are you doing?"  
  
"Oh, holding up.  So, tell me a story."  
  
"A story?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Peter thought for a moment, then cleared his throat.  "Once upon a time, there was a young thief, who thought he could evade the FBI forever. But he-"  
  
"Peter," Neal interrupted. "I want a story with a _happy_ ending."  
  
"This _is_ a story with a happy ending."  
  
"Uh-huh." Neal didn't sound very convinced.  "For who?"  
  
El's phone rang, and she answered it with a whispered "Hi."  Once again putting some distance between Peter and her.  
  
Peter spoke up, unconsciously trying to cover up the other conversation in the room.  "Neal, it's the middle of the night, you're out in a snow storm, you're injured - what kind of happy ending are you envisioning?"  
  
"Have some faith, Peter.  Don't just look at the half-empty glass."  
  
"The glass is 99% empty, and you know it.  Come on, Neal, be realistic.  You want to talk until you freeze?"  
  
"Tell me more about your farmhouse upstate."  
  
Peter was not happy about changing the subject. "It's not mine, it's my parents'."  
  
"But you grew up there."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What was it like?"  
  
"What was what like?"  
  
"Growing up on a farm.  It must have been a lot of fun."  
  
Peter smiled, despite it all. "It was."  Remembering that he had to keep Neal talking, he continued, "We had horses, when I was a kid."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, and on nights like these, I loved taking my horse out, to run in the snow." He got lost in the memory, so it took him a few moments to realize there was no snarky response back from Neal.  "Neal?"    
  
There was no answer on the other side of the phone.  
  
"Neal?"  
  
Peter checked that the call was still running.  "Neal!"  
  
But nobody answered.  Peter felt like crumbling up that silent phone into a little ball.   
  
El looked over at him. "It's Diana," she mouthed.  
  
Peter looked at his phone, then put it on 'mute' and offered it to El. "Here, give it to me."  
  
"Here's Peter."  
  
The two exchanged phones.   
  
"Let me know if he comes back on line."  And then to Diana. "What's up?"  
  
"Apparently the tech guys don't go home when it's stormy.  They traced the call to the Whitestone waterfront.  I'm on the other line with NYPD. I understand this is Caffrey?"  
  
"Yes. Tell them to approach carefully, and that he needs medical attention. They should have medics with them."  
  
"Will do, Boss."  
  
Peter was already heading for his closet.  "And tell them I'm going to meet them there."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Yeah. Send me the number of the officer in charge."  
  
After Diana signed off, Peter turned to El.  "Anything?"  
  
"It's completely quiet."  
  
Peter shook his head. "I hope he's alright."  
  
"Peter, there's nothing you can do by slogging your way across town in this weather."  
  
But Peter was already pulling on a pair of pants. "I've been chasing him for so long, I want to be there when he's arrested."  
  
El had a feeling there was more to it than that, but she realized there was no point in arguing.  "Drive safe."  
  
He gave her a quick kiss. "I will."  
  
***  
  
The darkness of the night was already starting to disperse by the time Peter drove back up to the Burkes' brownstone.  
  
El was up, working on bills in the kitchen.  She looked up as Peter entered.  He didn't have that look of satisfaction he usually had when he closed a case, but she wasn't sure whether that meant anything.  This wasn't a regular case. "Did you get him?"  
  
Peter shrugged out of his coat and dropped down into a chair.  "He wasn't there."  
  
At El's questioning look, he continued.  "We found his phone, still on, but Neal wasn't there."  
  
El looked at him in consternation. "So... what? This wasn't real?"  
  
The whole night felt unreal. "NYPD think Neal was playing a joke on us, but I don't buy it."  
  
"So what do you think happened?"  
  
Peter shrugged.  "I don't know.  I don't know if we'll ever know."  
  
But Peter was wrong.   
  
A few days later, he got a card addressed to his home address. Unmarked, of course.  It was a get-well card, with a colorful bouquet of flowers on the front.  Inside it said: "Sorry I couldn't hang around. Appreciated the pep talk.  Not sure what I'd have done without it. Love, Neal."


End file.
